


Grains of Sand

by bluedandelions



Series: Of The Shadows [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:14:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedandelions/pseuds/bluedandelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time, it was bad. The second time was bearable, then all the other times after that he failed, and kept failing. Maybe, the Goddess meant for it to happen that way. Then she was born, and knew it would be different. Turns out, it was not so very different after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grains of Sand

The harsh winds blew sand into her eyes, making them sting, as the sun rose slowly and persistently higher every moment, raising the heat from being uncomfortable to nigh unbearable. The sand dunes kept shifting and changing under the harsh hands of the desert winds, the sand sucking in her feet as she kept putting one foot in front of another. Her footsteps being erased as soon as she made them, her clothes flapping along and getting in the way of her walking, her hood unravellling and hindering her sight. Plumes of sand blew out around her mouth as her breathing turned more ragged, making her breathe in sand, coating her throat in grainy sand, abrading her throat, causing her to cough out blood, dribbling along the corners of her mouth. Her face a study in sand and blood, looking something like the legends of _Old_ , with their ghastly appearances. Blood, sweat and sand, as though it was all she was made of. Crumbling with every halting step, sand turnig to sand again. This was her hell. 

She always returned here. This was where it started and this is probably where it would end. Sand hit her bare face, burning through her skin and sticking to her open flesh, stinging and the blood kept trickling down her face in ever incresing rivulets. Soon her eyes would start crying blood, and then as her vision went grey, her body would get shredded by the sand, become just a red smear on the endless sand, and she would wake up screaming. 

This time was different. The sand was in her eyes, her vision gone, but she was not waking up. It just kept filling in her mouth, choking her as it went down her throat, all heat and dry grinding pressure against the walls of throat, her blood mixing with the sand in her throat, gurgling and coughing out blood wet sand. Her fingers clawed at her throat trying to remove the sand choking her, but they just left gouges for more sand to enter her body. 

As she felt herself falling down onto the dry, dry sand, a shadow fell on her. As her eyes futilely tried to track the shadow more sand filled her line of sight, a voice that was familiar sounded somewhere near her ears. Their meaning and cadence lost to the sand that filled her ears and every exposed crevice. A hot, heavy hand touched her raw cheek, rubbing the sand in further, causing fresh blood to fall under her, soaking the sand red slowly, a few drops at a time. The shadow spoke again, she could feel the vibrations through the hand on her cheek.

The air stilled, the sand became motionless, settling like a blanket upon her. She knew that the shadow was going to kill her, and then go after the heir. She must stop the shadow, prevent the heir's death, no matter the cost. Thanking the Goddess for the still air, she slowly moved the palm that was under her body, therefore not visible to shadow. The blood coating her palm was useful, she drew the sigil to draw and harness the power of the earth in return for the blood spilt on her great bosom. The ancient earth sighed the power gently into her. The shadow moved the hand from her cheek to her hair, grabbing and forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. The sand trickled out of her ears slowly, as though reluctant to give up their home. The shadows voice reached her, still sounding garbled but reached her none the less.

Opening her eyes proved to be futile, her vision was still lost, the shadow above her still unrecognizable but somehow familiar. 

Choking she gasped as she felt her throat being squeezed, pulling feebly at the hand around her neck. Blood trickling freely from her throat, mouth, just about everywhere. At this rate, she feed the earth herself in mere moments with no place for the power she was drawing. Her mind stilled, met with a solution to her dilemma. Drawing all the power breathed into her, she wove a _curse_ around the two of them, with her dying breaths she wished the shadow to turn to dust as from where the sahdow rose, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. As the world turned bright, she had only a sliver of a moment to regret that she had failed to fulfil her promise. She knew she wouldn't live to go back. Her promise broken, just as she broke into so very many shards of nothingness, gone to whence she came from. Just a few grains of sand. 


End file.
